Dark Immortality
by ofarrogant
Summary: AU The trail of secrets that Katherine Mayfair has been keeping doesn't end at what happened with Dylan. There's a far darker one still lurking beneath the surface that she'll be taking to the grave-if she could ever get there. Eventual Kathree.
1. The Siring

**_Disclaimer: I own no characters that are immediately recognizable as belonging to the Desperate Housewives fandom._**

_New-York City, 1796_

There had been nothing about the start of the evening that could've led Katherine Fitzgerald to predict that her entire world would be turned upside down by the end of it. Her four-year-old son had been tucked into bed and left in the charge of his nanny as she prepared to go out to the theatre with her husband. It had been the first evening where Gregory hadn't had to work late in some time and the couple was going to take advantage of it as best they could.

The show was enjoyable, the company, as they had joined a few friends, as pleasant as always, leaving them in good spirits. Upon departing, however, they would find no hansom cabs available, leaving walking as their only way to get home. Luckily the theatre wasn't that far from their home and Gregory was aware of a few shortcuts through some back alleys-or at least it seemed to be lucky at the time. She would come to associate it years later with an entirely different word.

The couple had just turned down the alley that would lead directly out onto the street that their house was situated on when two men stepped out of the shadows. Both were tall and impeccably dressed, but the one on the right was a visibly younger, slightly heavier, with a vaguely subservient air about him. The one on the left, however, was well-built, his hair and beard, both trimmed neatly, a variant of salt-and-pepper. His very presence seemed to exude absolute authority and the slow smile he flashed in the couple's direction was slightly eerie.

"Good evening, Mr. Fitzgerald," the older gentleman greeted Gregory, his gaze then flickering to Katherine, whom he then acknowledged with a polite nod. "And Mrs. Fitzgerald, I assume. What a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Her hazel eyes flickered questioningly up towards her husband, who seemed to have gone faintly pale in the face of these unexpected visitors. "M-Mr. Pressley," he stammered a little before managing to clear his throat. "Good evening. I wasn't expecting to run into you."

The supposed Mr. Pressley gave a low chuckle in response to that, the sound of which sent a chill down Katherine's spine for reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint. "No, I'm certain you weren't," he responded evenly. "But I believe we have some unfinished business to take care of and Mr. Samuels here," he gestured to his companion, "agreed that sooner was better than later."

"Gregory, what is he talking about?" Katherine demanded of her husband in an urgent whisper, starting to feel more uneasy than ever. He didn't answer her, though, and only looked at the men with a nervous expression on his face that did nothing to abate her own discomfort about the situation they had now found themselves in.

"You'll get your money, gentlemen," Gregory finally managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady, but failing miserably, his fear almost palpable. "Just give me a little more time." As he had spoken, he had tightened his grip on his wife's waist protectively.

Mr. Pressley only shook his head slowly, something fearsome flashing in his eyes for a moment before fading away again. "No, Mr. Fitzgerald," he said, his voice low. "I'm afraid your time is up. You haven't fulfilled your monetary obligations, so we'll just have to work out a different kind of agreement." He snapped his fingers then and, far too quickly for either husband or wife to register that it was happening, Mr. Samuels had lunged forward, slamming Gregory roughly into the brick wall behind them.

Katherine was forced to watch in horror as the man-no, he wasn't a man-bare his teeth, brilliantly white and sharp, and tear savagely into the flesh of her husband's neck. A terrorized scream escaped her, all the louder because Gregory, strangely enough, wasn't making any noise himself; wasn't even fighting. She rushed forward, grabbing onto the creature's arms and trying, in vain, to pull him off of her husband, but she was no match for him.

He turned around halfway for a moment, blood, Gregory's blood, dripping from his mouth and harshly flung her off of him as easily as if she was nothing more than a pesky fly. She went flying across the alley, slamming into the wall and hitting her head, hard. The world seemed to be spinning in rapid, endless circles around her as she slid to the cold ground. Her head was reeling from the impact and when she lifted a hand to it, her fingers came away glazed with her own blood. She looked back up slowly, trying to focus her hazy vision on what had become of her husband, and was just able to make out what appeared to be his lifeless corpse falling to the ground as the monster released him.

She could feel tears trailing numbly down her face, but she was far too dazed, her head pounding far too much, now to react in any other fashion. She was barely aware of a gruff voice, obviously that of Mr. Samuel's, inquire, "What about the wife, Darien?" This was followed by the sound of a deep intake of breath and then a longing sigh. "Damn, she smells delicious. But, fair is fair, she's all yours."

There was a long moment of silence before footsteps slowly approached her and the man called Darien, previously Mr. Pressley, knelt down in front of Katherine, surveying her thoughtfully. "Mmm, yes, she does," he agreed, wiping a bit of blood from her head wound with one finger, making her flinch reflexively, and sucking on it with obvious relish. After a moment, though, he retracted his finger and gave her that thoughtful look again. "But I think I may have other plans for her."

Her vision cleared just enough for her to be able to look at him fearfully, but was still left without the aid of any form of verbal defense or plea. The slow, eerie smile, spread across his face again, but this time she was close enough to see his bright, inhumanly strong, teeth. She felt a hand come to rest on the back of her head, tilting it back a little, and then hot breath on her throat followed by a sharp, piercing sensation before the scene faded away into the darkness of blissful unconsciousness.


	2. Waking Up Dead

_The Fitzgerald Family Crypt, 1796_

When Katherine's eyes opened again as she awoke from what felt like the heaviest of slumbers, the first thing she became aware of was the fact that her throat was burning with thirst. The second thing to come to her notice was the complete absence of light, the darkness that greeted her every bit as black as when she had been unconscious.

Frowning a little, she began to feel around, trying to determine where exactly she was. Her fingertips met wood on all sides of her and realization started to dawn that she was trapped in a box of some kind. Panic set in, then, fear of suffocation dominating her thoughts, before she realized that, strangely enough, she wasn't having trouble breathing. She felt around again, trying to see if any air holes had been drilled into the box, only to find nothing but solid wood, not even a crack of any kind.

She raised her hands to the lid, pushing on it a little. It appeared to be screwed down, but perhaps if she pushed hard enough, she'd at least be able to crack it enough so that she could call for help. Much to her surprise, it lifted all too easily and moonlight filtered in, illuminating her surroundings at last. She sat up slowly, feeling a little stiff, leading her to wonder just how long she had been in there, and was immediately startled to find herself in a mausoleum. Even more unsettling was the fact that when she glanced back down, it was to discover that it wasn't a box that she had been put in, but rather a coffin.

Her eyes darted around nervously as she climbed out, this realization making her feel more than a little uneasy. It was as she was doing this that she noticed that someone had changed her gown. Her memories of the other night, how long had it been, were a little hazy, but she knew that the forest green velvet number she had on now was _not_ what she had worn to the theatre. Her eyes then fell on the coffin that was next to the one that she had been trapped in and felt her throat constrict when she saw her husband's name engraved on it.

It was the family crypt that she was in, she realized numbly, her hazel-eyed gaze then flickering back over to the other coffin upon which, unsurprisingly now, had her own name engraved upon it. She must have been so bad off after the altercation with those men that they had assumed her to be dead and accidentally buried her alive. As she thought back upon that night, she absently lifted a hand to her head, startled once again to find no evidence of the wound she had received, not even thread to indicate that it had been stitched up, coming into contact with nothing other than the emerald studded pins keeping her hair up.

The catching of sudden movement in the shadows out of the corner of her eye startled her, jolting her from her thoughts. She spun around sharply, fear instilling itself in her breast once again, although, oddly enough, she couldn't feel her heart racing. "Who's there?" She finally managed to call out, her voice steadier, a good deal calmer than she actually felt. This was all starting to get to be a little much.

The fear didn't abate when the person who stepped out of the shadows was the older man from the other night; the one she could vaguely recall leaning over her before everything had gone black; the one whose name she thought she had heard to be 'Darien.' "You've woken at last, I see," he said calmly by way of greeting, fixing her with one of his eerie smiles. "I had a feeling that today would be the day, that's why I came."

Katherine's brow furrowed a little in response to this. "What do you mean you had a 'feeling'?" She demanded warily, her tone a little sharp. "And if you knew I was still alive, why did you let them bury me? Is it because doing otherwise would've landed you in prison?"

He chuckled in response to this, the sound sending a chill down her spine, his smile turning into one of amusement. "No, I didn't fail to tell them that in order to save my own skin," he retorted calmly. "I didn't tell them because, medically speaking, you're _not_ alive. In fact, any physician worthy of his license would say you're very much dead."

For a long moment she was only able to stare at him, completely at a loss for words. Finally, though, she shook her head slowly and said, "What are you talking about? I'm standing here, I'm speaking to you-clearly the only thing I am 'very much' of is alive."

"Then, tell me," he responded smoothly, cocking his head a little to one side, his piercing eyes not leaving her face, "why didn't you wake up in the coffin gasping for air? Why didn't you actually die of suffocation?"

She opened her mouth to respond but ended up only closing it again. Those were questions that she had been asking herself, were they not? She had no answers to them. It made absolutely no sense. The lack of air should've killed her; she shouldn't have been standing there having a conversation at all.

When she didn't answer, he only pressed on, taking a few steps towards her. "And, if you're as alive as you claim to be, why is it that you have no heartbeat?"

"What are you-that's absurd!" She stammered, unconsciously taking a step back away from him for each one he took forward. "Of course I have a heartbeat-" As she had spoken, she had lifted a hand to her breast, certain that she would find her heart beating against it, only to find nothing; not even the throb of a single pulse. She went absolutely still, her entire body frozen, and she could only utter a single, quiet, "No."

"I know it's quite a lot to take in," he added, his voice remaining perfectly calm, as he reached into his pocket. "But I have something for you that might ease the shock a bit-or at the very least the thirst I know you must be experiencing." His hand came back out of his pocket, then, clutching a thin vial of red liquid, which he held up for her to see. Upon first glance, it would almost look like red wine, but upon scrutiny, it would become quite clear that it was actually blood. "Take it," he urged simply, uncorking the tube and offering it to her.

Katherine's first instinct was to recoil, which she did halfway, but her feet refused to follow her upper body, and she was unable to tear her eyes away from the vial. For reasons she couldn't identify, the second he had produced it, the burning sensation in her throat had increased, making it feel as if it was on fire. She had never experienced such a strong thirst before, and it both bewildered and frightened her, as did the fact that the smell now wafting from the uncorked vial was only making it worse.

Almost of their own accord, her legs moved forward just enough to allow for one of her white hands to fly out and snatch the vial from him. She had lost complete control of her body, it seemed, and was unable to stop herself from then proceeding to drink the blood with as much relish as a dehydrated man would consume water. The more she drank, the more the burning decreased and the more satiated she felt, horrifying her beyond compare. When she had drained the last of it, her tongue made an unconscious sweep over her lips to make sure not a single spare drop was wasted, causing her to nearly shudder in disgust of her own actions. It was only then that she raised her terror filled eyes to meet his again, the vial slipping from her fingers and crashing to the floor. "What have you _done_ to me?" Was all she could ask, her voice nothing more than a tremulous whisper.

He regarded her in silence for a long moment before reaching out to lightly trace the contours of her jaw with one finger, crooking it underneath her chin. "What I've done is make you immortal," he answered simply. "But, there's a price for everything, and in this particular case, the price is the development of an unusual appetite."

She jerked back away from his touch, the fear in her eyes replaced by righteous anger. "I didn't _ask_ for immortality!" She shot back, stepping away from him again. "If you had to do anything to me, you should've just _killed_ me like your companion killed my husband!"

"I came very close to doing just that," he admitted.

"Then why didn't you?" She demanded.

Some kind of emotion flickered across his otherwise impassive façade. "I couldn't bring myself to be the murderer of such beauty," he murmured, clearly quite serious. "The thought of leaving you to rot in a coffin beside your worthless husband was unbearable."

This hadn't been the answer she was expecting, and she was left staring at him again for a long moment, her eyes wide, before she was able to snap out of it. "So, instead, you decided to condemn me to a life as a member of the race of the undead?"

"I had to possess you," was his even response.

"Well, you'll never have me!" She snapped, her eyes flashing, as she spun around on one heel and headed for the door of the tomb.

"Where do you think you're going?" He inquired of her, sounding faintly amused, as he turned to watch her, not moving from his spot.

"To find my son," she answered, shooting him another glare over her shoulder as she continued to walk, having every intention of leaving and having nothing to do with him.

"It's been a week since they buried you," he informed her coolly. "So he'd be in the custody of your closest living relatives by now for certain. But I wouldn't go after him, if I were you. Well, not unless you want to risk killing him if you can't control your hunger."

That caused her to freeze, one foot on the threshold, his words hitting her hard, as they were no doubt meant to, as she registered them. No matter how much she still loved him, and she did, dearly, she was a danger to her son now. It wouldn't take much for her newfound thirst for blood to get the better of her, the bit in the vial had proved that. This was how her involvement in his life would have to end. Even if she was able to formulate some kind of explanation for the fact that she wasn't a rotting corpse, she wouldn't be able to take him back. This realization was far more upsetting than the mere discovery of her new fate had been.

Slowly, she turned back around to face him, the expression on her face one of pained resignation. "I suppose you're right," she finally said, her voice grim. "But that doesn't mean I have to stay with you. I can still go off on my own."

"You could," he conceded with an indifferent shrug, as if he had been prepared for this entire conversation before it had even started, "if you wanted to get yourself killed."

"I thought that the point of being immortal is that you _can't_ die," she shot back acidly, her wits coming back to her now that the shock of it all was waning.

"You can't die from disease or old age or at the hands of men," he corrected. "But that doesn't mean that if you expose yourself-which you will, given the fact that you are young and unable to manage your urges-and therefore our entire race, others of our kind can't gang up and destroy you themselves."

Once again, she found herself checked by his argument-and hating him all the more for it. "What is it that you suggest I do, then?" She inquired. "Continue to leave my fate in your hands? Leave myself at your mercy?"

"Seeing as I'm the only one you can trust not to harm you regardless, it would be your wisest option," he responded evenly.

She was silent for a long moment again, clearly battling inwardly with herself over what she should do. She didn't trust him, she had no reason to, after all, but at the same time she admittedly didn't know how to survive on her own in this new life. "All right," she said finally, forcing her tone to be just as indifferent as his had been. "I'll stay with you." She then fixed him with a hard look, though, adding, "But I'll never be yours. Not really."

The amused smile from earlier came back, but he only gave a slight nod of his head, saying, "If you insist." He removed the cloak he had been wearing and draped it around Katherine's shoulders. "Come, we have a long journey ahead of us." He then moved ahead of her and out of the tomb.

She hesitated for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at the scene behind her. Making her way back over to them for a moment, she kissed her fingertips, lightly resting them upon her husband's final resting place. Her gaze then fell on what should've been hers, but what in reality was nothing more than an empty coffin. Wordlessly, she picked up the lid, her hands stilling for only a second before putting it back in place. No one would ever know she wasn't in there; no one who mattered, anyway. Pulling the hood of the cloak on over her head, she turned to go, following her new benefactor, for lack of a better word, out into the night.


	3. The Start of Eternity

_Boston, 1806_

Katherine was restlessly pacing the length of her bedroom, alternately clenching and wringing her hands together in frustration. Her throat was burning, parched, and she was ravenous. What was taking them so long? It had been over a week since she had last satiated the appetite that, after ten years, her conscience still found repulsive, and she wasn't certain how much longer she could withstand the agonizing thirst.

As she continued to pace, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of her eye and shuddered compulsively. She didn't think she would ever get used to that look that appeared in her eyes now whenever she was hungry. It was akin to the kind a starving animal might have and it frightened her because that, if nothing else, served as a constant reminder of the fact that she was no longer human.

Even if she managed to wipe the fact from her mind for a few hours, or perhaps even days, at a time, the truth always came crashing back in when she looked at her reflection after a lapse in feeding. Her eyes would darken beyond their normal shade of hazel and equally dark circles would form beneath them, contrasting starkly with her pale skin, lending her face a gaunt, sunken-in appearance. It was only then that looked like what she truly was: a walking corpse.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught her attention and her head swiveled sharply in the direction of the, locked, door, from underneath which wafted the smell of fresh blood. She inhaled heavily on instinct and then wished she hadn't, as this only raised her scorching thirst to new heights. A distraction, however, was soon provided in the form of the murmuring of soft voices as the footsteps ceased and a conversation took its place.

"I don't see why we have to share our spoils with her," her sire's companion, who she had come to know as Charlie, was grumbling. "Don't you think it is about damn time that she went off hunting on her own?"

"Have patience, Charlie," was Darien's smooth, if patronizing, response, accompanied by the sound of keys sliding on a ring as he searched for the one to her room. "She's still young yet, still uneasy about our lifestyle. There will be plenty of time for her to learn. Besides, isn't it our job as men to provide for our female companion?"

This only resulted in more grumbling, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock and the swinging of the door as it opened. "I apologize for the delay," Darien said by way of greeting as he strode into the room, a pitcher in one hand, a garment bag in the other; Charlie followed with a glowering expression in place. "But we ran into a little difficulty."

"By 'difficulty,' I presume you mean that someone actually managed to fight you," Katherine drawled, need registering in her gaze as it flickered to the pitcher, maintaining her sassiness despite the hunger that was overpowering her. "Brava to them."

"Is that any way to speak to the man who comes baring nourishment and gifts?" He responded with his usual mildness, setting down the pitcher on the bedside table and draping the garment bag over the footboard of the bed. He was never much affected by her scathing verbal attacks, a fact which only served to raise her ire even more.

She made a sound along the lines of a derisive snort, folding her arms across her chest, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking from need to satiate her appetite. "You're not a man," she retorted snidely. "You're an animated cadaver."

"As are you," he reminded her simply in a callous manner that would've made her flinch a decade ago, but which she had become accustomed to.

She glanced away sharply. "You don't have to remind me," she murmured darkly, folding her arms even more tightly, her expression stony.

Darien said not another word, only glancing over to Charlie and then nodding to the door in a gesture for him to leave. Charlie made a slight grunting noise on concession, shooting an irritated look in Katherine's direction again before leaving.

"Are you ever going to stop hating me, Katherine?" Darien inquired of her once they were alone. He had picked up the pitcher again, pouring some of the blood into a goblet, as he spoke, although his eyes never left her face.

"Give me one reason why I should," she demanded of him crossly, tilting her chin up a little in a defiant manner, her gaze straying to the goblet despite of herself.

The tiniest of amused smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, it would make the rest of eternity a good deal more bearable," he said, holding out the goblet to her. "Drink. You're starving, I can see it in your eyes."

Unable to restrain herself any longer, she reached out to snatch the goblet out of his hand, draining the contents with a soft sigh of satisfaction. As she finished, her tongue made a sweep over her tongue and teeth, as had now become a natural response, and she set the goblet back down. Glancing in the mirror for a second, it once again became apparent that this wasn't a thirst born out of mere desire, but an actual physical need: already, the color was starting to come back to her cheeks and the ravenous look was fading from her eyes.

"So I'm assuming you're not one bit curious about your gift," he remarked after a long moment of silence, nodding to the garment bag. "I had it made especially for you."

"A funeral shroud, perhaps?" She retorted dryly, pouring herself a second glass, her thirst not yet entirely assuaged. "That would be most fitting."

The amused smile returned, following through to his eyes. "Not exactly," he said, picking up the bag and unfastening it, revealing a stunning red silk gown with intricate beading along the neckline and hem. "Just something I thought you would look lovely in."

Faint surprised flickered across her face, accompanied by a slight arching of her eyebrows. "Isn't it a little cliché for our kind to wear red?" She couldn't help but quip wryly, finishing off her second glass.

"Perhaps," he conceded with a slight shrug, the amused smile lingering. "But it's such an exquisite color on you, I couldn't help myself."

"I can see that ten years hasn't been long enough for you to figure out that flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," she responded, sinking down onto the mattress at the foot of the bed, looking away again.

"I'm not trying to get anywhere," he said, leaning against the footboard. "I'm only speaking the truth." Reaching over, he crooked a finger underneath Katherine's chin, turning her face towards him. "You're so very beautiful."

"I'd rather be repulsive if it meant I was allowed to be at rest with my husband," she shot back, jerking her head away, out of his reach.

"He is no more worthy of your companionship in death than he ever was in life," he retorted. "I had thought you would've realized that by now. He's the reason you're here."

Her eyes flashed. "That is the most asinine thing I've ever heard!"

"It's true," he said, his gaze meeting hers straight on. "If he hadn't gotten himself into such a monetary scrape, he wouldn't have had to come to me for money. Moreover, if he hadn't failed to live up to his end of the bargain, we never would've had to corner the two of you in the alley that night. And if we hadn't had to corner you, Charlie would never have had to kill him and I would never have set eyes on you. It all comes full circle."

Katherine's eyes flashed again and a white hand flew up to slap him clean across the face, but he caught it midair before contact could be made. "He was a good man who made a few bad choices," she hissed, even as he enfolded her hand in his. "Unlike you, who is nothing more than a monster waiting in the shadows to take advantage of such men!"

He regarded her in silence for a moment, his calm expression unwavering, before he loosened his grip on her hand enough so that he could kiss the palm. "I do hope one day you'll stop thinking of me as such," he murmured, releasing her entirely. "I only do what I have to in order to survive in this world." He straightened up, then, and headed back towards the door. "I'll check in on you later."

"Am I ever going to be free to roam about on my own or are you always going to keep me locked up in here?" She demanded, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he dug the keys back out of his pocket.

"You'll earn your freedom once I can trust you not to pounce on the nearest living creature the second you set foot outside this house," he responded mildly, opening the door and sliding the key into the lock. "Tempering your urges will come with age and with practice."

"How am I supposed to get practice without exposure?"

Darien paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side a little in thought, before saying, "Fair enough. When the time comes for the next hunting session, you'll accompany us. It's time to see how well you can handle yourself."

The color drained from her face a little, her red lips parting as if to emit some kind of protest. She just wanted some fresh air, to be able to walk around without having her benefactor's eyes watching her every move, not to kill.

"You'll need to learn how to fend for yourself eventually," he told her, as if reading her mind, stepping outside into the hallway. "Sooner rather than later would be best." He offered her a smile and a slight bow, "Have a good day, my dear," before closing the door.

She remained frozen still where she was seated on the bed, the only sound that of the key turning in the lock and Darien's retreating footsteps. Closing her eyes tightly, she released a shaky breath, trying not to think of the fact that, in a few days time, she'd be a murderess.


	4. The First Hunt

_Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long, but things have been sort of hectic lately and this was a chapter I really didn't want to rush. So, with that said, I hope you all enjoy it, and I'll update again as soon as possible.  
_

_Boston, 1806_

If Katherine had thought that fresh air would be a relief, she was sadly mistaken. She stood outside her sire's household, crowds of people milling about, going on with their daily business. The wind whipped around, carrying with the unmistakable scent of human flesh, the scent of the blood that coursed through their veins. Katherine inhaled despite herself, instantly regretting it as she knew without a doubt that her pupils were already dilating with hunger. She took an unconscious step backwards, as if to retreat from the temptation, only to be stalled by Darien's firm hands on her shoulders.

"So much fresh blood right for the taking," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. "So many victims to choose from. Who will it be, my dear?"

"None of them," she retorted, her voice tight, strained. "I can't do this."

Even though her gaze remained focused on the milling crowd before them, she could sense the smirk on his face as he responded, "You have to. It's essential for survival."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, protesting, "There has to be some other way. Animal blood as a substitute; drinking but not killing. Anything but this."

"You're not strong enough to be able to subsist on animal blood yet," he said, lightly stroking one finger along the side of her neck. "And if we let our prey live, we put ourselves at risk for exposure. We'd never be able to stay in one location for more than a few days. It's not worth the trouble."

She shuddered a little, pulling away from his touch. "I hate you," she murmured for what must have been the thousandth time since he turned her, her voice trembling.

A resigned sort of sigh, followed by a flat, "I know," was the response she received. Gripping her shoulders a little more tightly, Darien turned her around so that their eyes met. "But you can't keep on fighting me, Katherine," he informed her. "Particularly not on matters like this. I'm only trying to ensure you don't put yourself in harm's way." When he received no other reaction outside of a contemptuous glare, he leaned in to murmur, "You'll want to catch them off-guard and alone. Other than that sage advice, I'll leave you to it," before turning her back around and gently shoving her forward into the crowded streets. By the time she glanced back over her shoulder to glare at him again, he had disappeared.

Swallowing again, she slowly turned back to face the masses. Another shiver coursed through her, but this time it was more in disgust of the way she could feel her body reacting to the scent that was surrounding her; the way her hunger made every inch of her ache with longing for the taste of fresh blood. She couldn't do this. How could Darien possibly expect her to be able to live with herself after taking the life of another? Just because _he_ apparently had no conscience, that didn't mean that she lacked one as well. Regardless of this inner turmoil, however, she found herself unable to muster the strength to turn back and lock herself inside the house, away from all temptation. But to do so would require a certain level of resistance that was, as of yet, beyond her capabilities. He was right, she realized bitterly, there was no other way. Not yet. Heaven help her, if God had any compassion for those souls condemned to this kind of damnation.

It was with resignation that she allowed her gaze to sweep over the surrounding masses as she threaded her way among them. If her heart had still been capable of beating, she was certain that it would be pounding with anxiety. She found herself clenching her fists so tightly that her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she struggled with the urge to just attack the next person who passed her. Even with her body shaking from the need to acquire sustenance, she knew that she'd have to be discreet and she'd have to choose wisely. For a moment, she had to shut her eyes, suddenly feeling quite ill at the turn her thoughts were taking, but she shook the feeling off with effort, continuing her search.

A group of chattering, laughing children passed by unsupervised, taking a shortcut down an alley. The inherent predator instinct that was still new to her urged her to follow, rationing what an easy target they would make, but her conscience, and the memory of the son she had had to abandon, forced her to turn away and head off in the opposite direction. She may have to kill, but she wouldn't be responsible for the death of a child, she swore vehemently to herself. No matter the overwhelming strength of her hunger, she would never sink that low. Never.

Her feet carried her farther down the street, almost of their own accord, and as she continued to thread her way through the huddled masses, she pulled her cloak even more tightly around herself. It wasn't that she was cold-how could she be among all that body heat-but almost as if she felt that by keeping a tight grip on the material, the better she'd be able to anchor herself to the realm of stability. At last, she turned a corner onto a more deserted street and heaved a silent sigh of relief. At last, she could breathe again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an elderly woman attempting to make her way up a steep flight of stairs. She was about a quarter of the way up when her cane got stuck in a crack in the cement and she tottered backwards, about to fall. Within seconds, Katherine was at her side, supporting her as she helped her straighten up. The woman glanced up at her, clearly a little startled by her sudden appearance, but then offered her a gap-toothed smile. "Thank you, dearie."

Katherine returned the smile, sighing inwardly with relief, the sheer hint of decency that had shone through her primal urges ensuring her that perhaps she wasn't soulless after all. "It's no trouble, ma'am," she responded evenly. "May I be of some assistance in helping you up the rest of the stairs? You can lean on my arm."

The woman's smile widened a little more as she said, "Yes, thank you kindly. What a sweetheart you are," taking Katherine's arm when offered it. Katherine proceeded to help her up the stairs without another word, even supporting her patiently as the woman stood on the narrow top step, digging around in her purse for her house key. It wasn't until the front door had swung open, revealing an empty house, and Katherine was helping her elderly companion over the doorstep that Darien's words came back to her. _You'll want to catch them off-guard and alone. _It was another one of those moments when she knew for certain that some ten years before, her heart would be pounding with anxiety, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. All that prowling and she had happened upon this, the perfect situation, by chance. Was God mocking her or did such luck really befell the condemned

As if some cosmic force was indeed answering her question, the old woman tottered inside, asking, "Would you care for a cup of tea, my dear? It's the least I can do to express my gratitude."

Katherine remained rooted in the doorway, still hesitating despite how easy everything was now coming to her. Finally, however, she managed to calmly respond, "Tea would be lovely, thank you, if it isn't too much trouble," and stepped inside, taking care to close the door behind her.

The woman waved a hand dismissively, already making her way into the kitchen, Katherine following. "Not at all, dearie, not at all." She had to pause in the doorway as a coughing fit overcame her, her frail body shaking a little as she hacked into a handkerchief which gnarled hands had retrieved from a pocket in her skirt. "Excuse me," she apologized once the coughing had subsided, "but these old lungs just aren't what they used to be."

Any reservations that Katherine had retained about what needed to be done faded away at the sound of the first cough that sounded from the woman's lungs. She was elderly, she was ill, Katherine had caught sight of specks of blood dotting the handkerchief, she realized, her mind making swift rationalizations. Even if she didn't attack this woman, she would no doubt be dead within a year or two. During that period, her health could only decline, and she'd end up suffering far worse ailments than the ones she was facing now. By taking her life now, before her condition worsened, wouldn't she be doing her a favor?

The old woman hobbled over to the hearth to start a fire and Katherine knew she didn't have much time to make a decision. As soon as the woman's back was to her, she reached out to seize her firmly, spinning her around and shoving her back against the wall. The woman stared up at her again as she had done before, but the gratitude from earlier had now been replaced by obvious fear. She opened her mouth to speak, but was left speechless with fright. "I'm sorry," Katherine whispered, her voice throbbing with true remorse, before bending to sink her teeth into the woman's throat.

Once she started to feed, she found herself unable to stop. The woman's feeble attempts to push her away, her gasps of pain, all of which might have, under different circumstances, made her pull back had absolutely no effect on her. In fact, it wasn't until she had drained the last drop of blood from the old woman's body that she seemed to even become aware of what she had just done. As realization dawned, her face quickly drained of all the healthy color that had just returned to it, and her hands started to shake as she recoiled, allowing the woman's corpse to drop to the floor.

Clamping a tremulous hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she started to move backwards, nearly stumbling, until she felt her back press up against the door. Turning doorknob, she wrenched it open, tearing down the stairs at a speed that she hadn't even realized she was capable of. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and turned her gaze downwards, concealing her face, as she hurried almost blindly back the way she had come. By the time she had reached Darien's house, her entire body was trembling in addition to her hands and tears were threatening to fall. She only half-noticed her two companions lounging in the sitting room, waiting for her, and breezed past them and up the stairs, flying into her room and collapsing in a tearful heap on the bed.

Several minutes passed with Katherine just lying there, sobbing brokenly into her pillow, her mind reeling with the images of the atrocity she had just committed. Then she felt a familiar hand, firm but gentle, come to rest on her shoulder, and when she lifted her tearstained face she was met with the sight of Darien. But gone was the smug, slightly leering expression that was his norm, and in its place was one of utmost compassion. She was so stunned by this that she was left speechless, only able to stare at him as tears continued to stream down her face. He was likewise silent, only reaching out to tenderly wipe her tears away, cradling her head in one hand. When he finally did speak several minutes later, it was only to gently murmur, "It will be alright. You may feel like the lowest piece of scum to ever dirty the ocean floor right now, but it will be all right. I promise you." She could still only stare at him, more touched than she could ever express by this unexpected display of tender affection, and this feeling only intensified as he pulled her into a warm embrace. Settling into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder as he gently stroked her hair, Katherine started to think that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't a monster after all.


	5. Succumbing

_Author's Note: As you may have noticed, the rating on this fic has been raised from T to M, and this has happened entirely on account of this chapter and possible future ones of a similar nature. So, that said, the following contains a scene of fairly graphic sexuality. If you are uncomfortable with this, I'd suggest not reading further. _

_Rome, 1816_

It had been ten years since that first hunt, and ever since Katherine had slowly become more accustomed to this new lifestyle. She was still plagued by revulsion following each time she fed off of an unsuspecting victim, but she no longer broke down in tears. Likewise, the constant moving that was necessary to keep people from becoming suspicious also had become second nature. The fact that Darien had various lodgings already bought and paid for, five centuries under his belt had allowed him to become a man of means, scattered across America and Western Europe made things a tad easier. Although it wasn't just the circumstances that she found herself adjusting to, but the company as well.

Her hatred for her sire, which had been so strong those first ten years, had slowly started to fizzle out. If you asked her, she couldn't entirely explain the reasons behind this phenomenon beyond the argument that, upon close inspection, he wasn't the ruthless sadist she had first thought him to be. The man was in fact capable of compassion, as Katherine had discovered the evening of her first kill, and even, she began to suspect, deeply suppressed remorse for his actions. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed murdering innocents, it was just that he had reached the point where he could do it without flinching. Had it been right for her to initially condemn him as a monster for that reason? She was beginning to think not, even if she wasn't sure she could ever quite get to that point herself.

Moreover, Darien, despite the circumstances, was a gentleman. He wanted her, that had been blatantly clear from the beginning, but he had not made any move to touch her in a way that was inappropriate. For all the frustration that they no doubt caused him, he had accepted the boundaries she had placed between them as they were. It had been twenty years now and any other man in that situation might have reacted violently, might have taken her against her will, but not him. It was somewhat a strange paradox that a man could kill without even batting an eye, but wouldn't cross the line of rape. That was the way it was, however, all he ever did was look-and she eventually found herself enjoying the fact that he did.

He was attractive in a suave, distinguished way if not in the fashion of a Grecian god; well built if not overly muscular. It was that penetrating gaze of his that drew her in, much like it had been that gaze that had unnerved her when they first met. But it wasn't so much fearsome as alluring now that she had stopped feeling as if she was some coveted prize and more as if she was merely what he clearly saw her as: a desirable woman. Whenever they were in the same room, she could feel him watching her, sense those eyes of his rove all over her body, and knew he was mentally undressing her. As time went on, she found her body responding instinctively to those looks just as they would to a tender caress, and sometimes got so aroused that she had to slip away to compose herself and cool down.

One such moment arose one evening in mid-winter when they were tucked away in Darien's villa right outside of Rome. Snowflakes were falling in abundance outside the big bay windows, and Katherine was seated on the window seat, watching them in an absentminded fashion. Charlie was out, leaving the two of them alone in the parlor, the only sound that of the fire crackling on the hearth. Darien was sitting by the fireplace, taking up the pretense of reading, but had soon abandoned it in favor of watching her. As always, his gaze was all-encompassing, roaming over every inch of her, and she soon felt the familiar warmth of arousal start to spread down between her thighs. Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment, she shifted a little in her seat, but stood her ground. No, tonight she wasn't going to flee, she decided. Tonight she was going to face this head on; tonight she was going to succumb.

Very slowly, she rose to her feet, turning to face him so that their gazes locked, and for a moment, they were both still, silent. "Do you ever get tired of only being able to watch?" Katherine finally inquired, her voice low, as she took a step towards him.

He arched an eyebrow mildly in response to the question, leaning back in his chair, and said, "What else would I do, my dear?"

She gave a shrug of her slender shoulders, moving closer to him still. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "You could touch me. Allow your hands to travel the same path your eyes just did."

Surprised, followed by an obvious spark of lust, flickered briefly in his eyes at that suggestion, but he kept his expression carefully guarded. "That begs the question of whether or not you'd want me to do that, Katherine," he murmured, watching her carefully. "I'd never do anything to you of that nature if you didn't wish it."

"I know," she replied softly, settling on the arm of his chair. "You've made that quite clear." There was a brief pause, then, before she reached out to lightly touch his face, running her palm along the curve of his cheek. Leaning in a little, she added in an even softer, albeit one graced with an inviting tone, voice, "But what if I said I did wish it?"

His gaze didn't waver as he gently took her hand in his, turning it so that he could press the lightest of kisses to her palm. "Then I wouldn't be able to refuse you," he murmured simply.

A tiny smile played on her lips, hazel eyes flashing with desire, as she only whispered, "Good," before leaning in to press her lips to his.

He responded to the kiss instantaneously with great tenderness, slowly wrapping his arms around her waist. When he received a faint sound of satisfaction upon nibbling lightly on her lower lip, he took this as incentive to deepen the kiss, tightening his hold on her as he pulled her into his lap. Katherine, for her part, didn't resist in the slightest, winding her arms around his neck in turn and opening her mouth with a pleased sigh once his tongue began its quest for entry. As the kiss was deepened even further, the passion that had been simmering between them now slowly coming to a boil, she found herself pressing her body against his, at that moment desiring the feel of it above everything else.

Darien's hands eventually loosened their grip in favor of slowly running up and down her back, fingering the fastenings of her gown. "There is nothing I want more than to take you right here, right now," he murmured, his voice huskier than ever with desire, against her lips, pulling her even more tightly to him so that she could feel how he had already hardened in want of her. "Nothing on this earth."

"Then do it," she breathed in response, the words punctuated by a soft gasp, as she wound her legs around his middle. "Please. It's been too long."

"Too long since you've had a man?" He inquired in clarification, finally breaking the kiss to start trailing kisses along the side of her neck, already unfastening the hooks of her dress.

"Yes," she sighed, arching her neck and assisting him in removing the impediment of her clothing, pulling her arms out of the sleeves. "Not since you turned me."

He was smirking a little against her skin as he murmured, "And whose fault is that?"

She swatted at him, but was unable to do much else in the face of the fact that he had just slid a hand between her legs, pressing against her through her undergarments and earning a sharp gasp. Her legs tightened even more securely around his waist as she moved to strip him of his shirt, running her fingers over his bare chest once it was revealed.

"Shall I have you now, then?" He inquired, his voice low with longing, his breath hot on her skin, as he tugged the gown down around her waist. "Right here on the floor?"

"Yes," was all she could breathe in answer, her grip on him only tightening, and she was nothing but yielding as he lowered them both to the floor. There, on the plush carpet before the fireplace, they began to make love for the first time. Bending down to graze her collarbone with his lips, he pulled her dress off of her the rest of the way, leaving her in her underclothes.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her skin, his hand slipping beneath her back to start unknotting the lacings of her corset with a skilled determination. Winding her arms around his neck and lifting a little to give him easier access to both her flesh and to the laces, she clung to him like a vine to a wall. Her only verbal response to his flattery was a deep sigh of desire. Once he has succeeded in releasing her from the corset, he tugged at her shift, freeing it from where it was tucked into the waistband of her petticoat, and pulled it up over her head, exposing her upper body to him entirely.

Darien couldn't suppress the low groan that escaped him at the mere sight of her, and wasted no time in kissing his way down her chest, pausing to take the nipple of each breast in his mouth in turn, relishing the feel of it hardening beneath his tongue as he swirled it around the sensitive flesh. Katherine gasped, arching up into his mouth in ecstasy as her head rolled back, her fingernails digging into his skin. Still lavishing attention on one breast, he moved to remove her petticoat, her bloomers, and thereby rid himself of the last obstacle keeping him from her womanhood.

Shifting down to press the softest of kisses to where the pale flesh of her stomach met the v of her thighs, causing her to shift beneath him in the painful ecstasy of anticipation, before pulling back to shed his pants as well as his own undergarments. For a moment, he was still, and all she could do was stare at the wholeness of him, then her gaze flitted back up to meet his, the two locking with each other and translating a shared current of electric need. Their eyes still locked, he moved to, at last, enter her.

Katherine could only give a sharp, whimpering mew in response to the sensation, bucking beneath him as her hips jerked reflexively. Never before had she experienced such a heightened sense of arousal as the kind she was experiencing then as he moved within her, his fingers just as busily locating her core and lavishing it with tender caresses all the while. The arousal was so strong, so painfully intoxicating, that was afraid that she might start weeping for want of an orgasm, thinking that the point of climax couldn't come fast enough.

When it eventually arrived, she was not disappointed, the explosion of pleasure all the more intense as a result of her now-heightened senses. A louder cry than she thought she was capable of making escaped her, nearly a shriek, and she drew blood when she instinctively bit down on her lower lip to muffle it; the accompanying tremor that coursed through her body so strong that, even well after the orgasm ebbed, she was certain that even her very bones were quivering. So enthralled was she by her own climax that she was lost to his, but when she gradually came back to her senses, she would see that Darien, too, was slowly coming down, his expression somewhat hazy.

When he finally gathered his composure enough to start to pull out, she stopped him, only pulling him down for a passionate kiss and murmuring only, almost to her own surprise, "Again," into his mouth, too greedy to allow the experience to end so quickly. Darien, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and spreading to his eyes, is quick to comply and takes her again, twice more, right there. Still, neither of them were completely satiated, and it took two more rounds, one up against the wall on the staircase and a final one on his great bed, before they both collapsed, not physically worn out, but unable to take anymore pleasure.

Rolling onto his side to face her, Darien reached to smooth a few lustrous locks of auburn hair, damp with perspiration, back from Katherine's brow, studying her face in silence. "Should I take this to mean that you've stopped hating me?" He finally inquired, his voice a low drawl, a hint of a smile in his eyes, running his fingers lightly over her bare thigh.

A hint of a smile played on her lips as she looked up at him, hazel eyes dancing playfully. "I suppose you could say that," was all she murmured, reaching out to trace patterns on his chest with a slender finger. "If you're feeling overly confident, that is."

"When am I ever not overly confident?" He responded wryly, earning a soft laugh in answer. Smiling a little, he bent down to graze her lips tenderly with his, enveloping Katherine in an embrace, content to merely hold her to him now that his urges had been satisfied. "I love you," he murmured, his voice quiet, upon breaking the kiss, his gaze locking with hers again.

Katherine's eyes widened slightly in surprise, for although she had begun to suspect as much, actually hearing the words from his lips was an entirely different matter. Moreover, she was just as surprised by the answer that rose instinctively to her own lips, crossing them almost unconsciously, but ringing no less true for this:

"I love you, too."


	6. No Eternal Guarantees

**Author's Note: First off, I apologize for taking so long with this. Secondly, my reason for this is, as you will see, this chapter ended up being insanely long. I hope this isn't off-putting and, as always I hope you all enjoy. **

_Paris 1896_

"Where do you think you're going?" Katherine's voice sounded softly in Darien's ear, slim fingers grasping the shirt he was attempting to pull on over his head and effectively stalling his progress.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a tiny smile, but all he said was, "Out," pulling the shirt from her grasp and tugging it on the rest of the way. Turning around to face her, he added, "I told you I had things to do today."

"Yes," she admitted, settling back against the pillows, the sheets draped across her in a fashion that hid her breasts and torso, but exposed a pale, shapely thigh. "But I thought these 'things' could wait until this afternoon. You promised me an entire morning in bed."

"Anything to even temporarily mollify your insatiable appetite, my dear," he responded, his tone lightly teasing, as he leaned over to kiss her. "But can't _half_ a morning in bed suffice?"

"That depends," she breathed against his lips, slowly responding to the kiss before pulling back, a delicately arched eyebrow raised. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Most of the day, I wager," he said, and then arched an eyebrow mildly himself at the discontented sigh that this response earned him. "What? You'll hardly be alone, Katherine. Charlie will be here."

"I would hardly count Charlie as good company seeing as he hates me," she responded flatly, pulling herself up into a sitting position and wrapping the sheets more tightly around her naked body.

Darien made a dismissive sound at that, standing up to put on a pair of pants. "He certainly does not," he responded. "How can you say that after all these years?"

"Because it's the truth," Katherine argued. "He has resented me from the moment you turned me, Darien. Don't you remember how utterly _hostile_ his demeanor was that first evening you brought me back to where you were staying? He may have grown more civil since then, but the resentment is still there every time you turn your back."

"He's jealous, I wager," he said simply after a pause, shrugging into a jacket. "Men can be just as capable of it as women, you know, if a little less catty about it."

"Jealous?" She echoed, her brow furrowing in disbelief. "What of? It's not as if you two were _lovers_ or any such nonsense-" She trailed off abruptly, then, in response to the suggestive look that he gave her, her face paling. "Good God."

His response to her astonishment was a careless shrug as he sat down again to pull on his boots, saying simply, "After living an existence such as ours for a certain number of decades, you learn to be less picky about your companions. Pleasure is pleasure, my dear, it is not limited to heterosexual relationships."

"Abominable," was all she could breathe, her eyes wide. Of all the secrets in the world that Darien could have been keeping from her, this was the least expected.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, his eyes sparking a little with amusement as he glanced over at her. "I do believe you lost the right to judge others when you rose from your own crypt, sweetheart," he drawled, his tone lightly teasing but none the less effective as it promptly shut her up, her face flushing. "I was a lonely man when I met Charlie, Katherine," he continued after a pause, continuing to lace up his boots. "I had lived a solitary life for a good one hundred years, too long for anyone of any kind to be alone, and I was more than happy to have finally found a companion. It didn't matter to me that he was another man, I had long since learned not to give a damn what others thought, only that I was content."

"Then why did you turn me?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing a little, a spark of jealousy now rising in her own breast despite herself. "If you were so happy with Charlie, why bother with me?"

Darien was silent for a long moment before moving to sit beside her on the bed. His eyes locking with hers, he reached over to lightly caress her face, murmuring, "Because to be content and to be in love are two different things. I knew from the moment I saw you in that alley that you were the one I'd spend the rest of eternity with. There was a spark, a connection, the moment I looked into your lovely eyes. Charlie sensed it just as quickly as I did and that's why he resents you."

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing. "So I don't have to worry about you suddenly deserting _me_ for some new conquest?" She inquired, her tone light despite the fact that this was clearly a serious concern.

"Not in the slightest," he assured her, leaning over to brush his lips lightly over the corner of her mouth. "Of course, that doesn't mean you might not desert me some day."

Katherine pulled back sharply at that, hazel eyes as wide as they could possibly go. "That's absurd," she retorted. "I would never."

"Never say never, my dear," he responded simply, his expression calm, if slightly sad at the thought. "You could very well find someone else who makes you happier than I ever could; someone who completes you." His eyes started to dance a little as he added, "Who knows? It could even be another woman."

She only shook her head vehemently, curling up against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I can't imagine being with anyone but you," she told him softly, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw. "I love you, Darien."

"And I you," he murmured back, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. "More than anything else in the world. But," he pulled back then, meeting her gaze and suppressing a tiny smirk, "I still need to go."

She stuck her lower lip out in a mild pout, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bedpost, muttering, "If you must, fine."

"Oh, I must," he confirmed with a slight smile. "But I'll be back tonight, I promise, and then I'll be all yours." Rising to his feet, he adjusted his jacket and paused to glance in the mirror, patting his hair down, before turning to go.

"I'll be holding you to that, mon amour," she called silkily after him, earning a chuckle as he disappeared from her line of sight.

It was very late that evening, nearing midnight, before Darien returned. For reasons she couldn't quite fathom, he was far more predator then victim, Katherine found herself starting to worry and stayed up to wait for him. Remaining anchored in a chair in the parlor, she made an effort to concentrate on the needlework in her hands. This proved to be in vain, however, as she found her gaze flickering more and more constantly to the door with each hour that passed.

The clock was just getting ready to strike its twelfth hour when the door finally opened and in he walked. Katherine opened her mouth to wryly chastise him, "I was beginning to think you had-" when she registered the agitated expression on his face, his pensive posture. "What's the matter?" She inquired, slowly rising to her feet, a frown creasing her face.

Exhaling slowly and running his fingers though his hair, Darien responded, "We're not alone here. There are others who have set up lodgings on the outskirts of town."

" 'Others'?" She repeated in confusion, her brow furrowing, as she took a step forward. "You mean other vampires?"

"What else would he mean?" Charlie interjected crossly from the corner where he, too, had been seated, waiting, but had now stood up. Turning back to Darien, his expression grim, he demanded, "How many?"

"Twice our number at least," Darien answered, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he turned to walk over to the fireplace, staring at the dying embers. "Perhaps even ten."

Charlie made a cursing sound, pounding his fist into the nearby wall, and Katherine could only glance between the two of them quizzically. "Would one of you care to take the time to fill me in on what's going on?" She demanded. "Why does it matter that there are others out there? This isn't exactly a small town and, you said so yourself, we're leaving for Venice soon."

"Some of our kind are known for getting territorial," Darien responded tersely, not quite looking at her, chewing on his thumb. "There have been more battles than I could properly relay that have occurred when two groups have converged upon the same location." Glancing to her then, he added, "We have had the misfortune to encounter not only one such group, but one that also out numbers us to too great an extent."

She paled slightly, understanding dawning, and her hands started to clench her skirts tightly as she demanded, "They're going to attack us? Just because we happened to temporarily settle in the same town?"

"So it seems," he responded with a mirthless chuckle. "I tried to reason with them, but to no avail. We have until dawn to clear out otherwise they're prepared to wage war."

"Then we'll be out of here before dawn," Katherine responded simply, already turning to leave the room. "It won't take that long to pack our things. Not if we start now-" She was cut off by Darien turning to seize her gently, but firmly by the arm, causing her hazel eyes to flit up to his face questioningly.

"Don't be so naive, my darling," he murmured simply, his tone affectionate if deadly serious. "They'll be here long before dawn. Giving us a way out is merely a clever ruse on their part to keep us distracted so their attack will take us by surprise." Glancing over to meet Charlie's gaze he added grimly, "I wouldn't be surprised if they're moving in as we speak."

"Then what are we going to do?" She demanded, her gaze bouncing back and forth between both of them again. "You said they outnumber us. Would we even stand a chance if we stood and fought?"

His expression was almost sad as he reached up to tenderly cup her face in his hand, running his fingers along the curve of her cheek. "Not 'we,' Katherine," he corrected softly. "I alone will face them." Catching the sight of Charlie about to balk out of the corner of his eye, he silenced him with a look, adding, "Charlie will take you to safety."

Katherine, whose eyes had widened sharply in response to this, shook her head fiercely. "No," she retorted. "What you're suggesting is suicide. I'm not leaving you alone, Darien. I can fight. I'm not a novice any longer."

"I know you're not," he responded, his tone reassuring but firm as his gaze locked with hers again. "But I'm not going to risk losing you nor am I going to ask you to bloody your hands any more than they already have been because of me." Taking one of her hands and his and pressing a kiss to the palm, he added in a soft whisper, "Don't fight me on this, Katherine. You won't win, I promise you that."

Confliction flickered openly across her face, her mouth twisted into a pained frown. She knew he wouldn't budge, but she couldn't cede willingly to his demands. "You can't fight them all on your own," she argued, grasping his hand in both of hers now. "They'll kill you, Darien. Don't do this."

"She's right, Darien," Charlie butted in, walking over, his expression grim. "You can't handle them all on your own. This is crazy talk. At least let me fight with you. We'll tuck her away some place safe where they can't get her and we'll slaughter them together."

"We're not leaving her alone," Darien shot back, his jaw set in a determined fashion that meant he was done arguing. "You will take her farther into the city, find lodgings there that the others wouldn't dare disturb without risk of exposure and stay there. Do I make myself clear?" At a reluctant grunt of assent on Charlie's part, he turned back to Katherine, ordering her, "Go get your cloak, Katherine."

She desperately wanted to argue, but was silenced by the sheer will-power of his gaze, and mutely turned to do as told. Grabbing her cloak from the wardrobe in her room, she hesitated before reaching out to snatch a miniature portrait of Darien from where it stood on the bedside table, tucking it away before leaving the room. As she approached the parlor, she saw a small pouch exchange hands from Darien to Charlie only to be slipped into the latter's pocket, followed by a curt nod and a murmured utterance she couldn't hear.

Turning to her as she entered, Darien drew Katherine into an embrace, pressing a tender kiss first to her forehead and then to her lips. "Everything I'm doing, I'm doing to keep you safe," he murmured to her, his piercing gaze locking with hers once again. "I love you. Remember that, Katherine, if nothing else."

"Don't talk like that," she murmured back, clinging to him tightly and burying her face in his shoulder. "It makes it sound as if you're saying goodbye. You're not allowed to. You have to come back to me, Darien. Promise me you will."

"I can't do that," he replied softly, holding her close and tenderly stroking her hair. When she pulled back to glower fearfully at him, he only leaned in to kiss her on the lips again, this time more passionately. "I love you," he repeated, breathing the words into her mouth.

Despite her best efforts, Katherine found herself melting into his embrace, whispering, "I love you, too," against his lips as she responded to the kiss, holding onto him for dear life, and doing so all too literally. "I always will."

He brushed his tongue lightly over her lower lip before reluctantly pulling back, his expression sad but loving as he looked at her one last time. "Take her away," he finally said to Charlie, his voice quiet, releasing her and turning away as if he couldn't stand actually watching her walk away.

Charlie only nodded gruffly, moving forward and grasping Katherine's arm firmly, saying, "Come along," and guiding her out the door. As they left, she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder at Darien one more time, trying to suppress the sinking feeling that she would never see him again.

He led her swiftly and discreetly through the shadows and well into the depths of the city that was, as always, host to a boisterous night life. Their targeted destination proved to be a small inn that teetered on the border of the affluent side of town and that of the middle class. Quickly handing over enough money to cover for the expense of one night, Charlie ushered Katherine upstairs into a room.

"I don't care what Darien says, I'm not leaving him to fight those bastards alone," he informed her bluntly. "I'm going back there while you stay put. Got it, missy?"

For once, Katherine was not inclined to argue with him, knowing that even two fighting against a mob was better than one fighting alone, and only nodded. "Keep him safe," she requested softly. "For both of our sakes."

He checked slightly in response to that before seeming to realize that Darien must have informed her of their previous relationship. Seeming to reconcile with the fact, he nodded as well, gruffly responding, "I will," before heading back out the door.

The hours that passed following his departure were actually few in number, but seemed to Katherine to be days. With nothing to occupy her other than her thoughts and her worries, she continued to fret, alternating between nervously twisting the hem of her cloak and pacing the length of the room over and over again. She was midst in what must have been the hundredth or so pace when the door opened and Charlie stumbled in, his clothing ripped and bloody gashes marring his face and neck, but otherwise intact.

At the sight of him, she froze mid-stride, her face draining of all color. "My God," was all she could gasp, moving forward to help him into a chair. "Charlie? What happened? Where's Darien?" When the only response she received was silence and the shaking off of her hands, her fears were far from alleviated. "Where is he, Charlie?"

He wouldn't look at her, only staring at the wall as he allowed himself to sit down without her aid. Several minutes passed in silence, the dread that was starting to overwhelm her making Katherine feel as if her lifeless heart had received a sudden jolt that had allowed it to leap into her throat. When Charlie finally spoke, however, his voice hoarse, his words only confirmed her worst fears. "Darien's been killed."

If she hadn't already been dead in the medical sense of the word, Katherine would've died right there. As it was, all of her fire, all of her energy seemed to die away and she stumbled backwards, grasping onto the nearby bedpost for support. "No," was all she could say, her voice barely above a whisper. "No."

Charlie only shut his eyes in wordless response, his jaw taut as he seemed to be struggling with his own grief, a single tear escaping. As she watched this, the sight of the only other soul who had cared for her lover as much as she had grieving for their mutual loss, Katherine felt herself start to lose it completely. The sob started in the pit of her stomach, slowly pushing its way up to her chest, to her throat, and finally escaped her lips, resulting in the most wretchedly heartbreaking sound imaginable. But it didn't stop there, one sob following after another, after another, after another. Wrapping one arm around herself and clamping the other over her mouth to muffle angst-ridden wailing, Katherine was forced to sink down onto the bed as her knees threatened to give out, tears streaming down her face.

Throughout all this, Charlie remained silent, allowing her to mourn this unbearable loss in the only way she knew how. It wasn't until the wailing had subsided and a soft sniffling was all that remained of her tears that he finally spoke. "All the other houses are yours," he said, still not looking at her. "There's a box of gold, money, and jewels hidden beneath the floorboards of the dining room in Flanders. It should be enough for you to live on for a number of years. Centuries, even, if you invest it right." At the tearful, questioning look she shot him, he only said, "All provisions made for you by him."

"What about you?" Was all she asked, her voice soft and still tremulous, after having cleared her throat. "Where will you live? What will you live on?"

"I've made my own investments over the years," he responded with a slight shrug, still not looking at her. "No need to worry your pretty little head about me. I'll manage."

"So I'll never see you again either?"

At that, he finally looked at her, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards slightly in a half-smile despite his bereaved expression. "We never got along," he said simply. "You won't miss me much. I can guarantee it."

She only nodded once, her gaze dropping down to her still-trembling hands, which were folded in her lap. "So when do we part ways?"

"I'll be leaving tonight," he said, starting to haul himself to his feet already. "About now, actually. The room's already paid for so you might as well stay until morning. Go wherever you want from there. As I said, everything's yours."

Katherine nodded again, lifting her gaze to watch him shuffle towards the door. "Good luck, Charlie," she said softly. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Katherine," he responded, offering her a cordial, if stiff, nod before disappearing out the door, this time never to come back. He was gone, just like Darien, and she was left alone with an eternity ahead of her. Fate had never been more cruel.


	7. A New Beginning

**Author's Note: I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. Between a new job, school, and some other personal crap, my creativity's been shaky at best. But I swore once that I wouldn't abandon this story and I intend to follow through on that promise. Enjoy.**

_Rhode Island 1972_

The decades that passed following Darien's death were the longest of Katherine's life. Year after year dragged on at the pace of a turtle, and every time she reached the end of a decade, she'd breathe a sigh of relief, only to remember that she had an infinite number ahead of her. This realization never failed to cut her to the core.

For a long time she hated herself for letting Darien go off to face the other band of vampires alone. Surely by the time Charlie got there, it had already been too late. She should've clung to him, tried harder to convince him to just run, or followed him despite his wishes. But she hadn't and her sire, her beloved, was long dead and would never rise again.

Deep down, she realized that no matter how good a resistance she had put up, she wouldn't have won. He had been a truly stubborn man, absolutely certain that he knew best and there was nothing on earth, in heaven, or even in hell that could get him to change his mind. It had been part of his charm and that charm was gone just like the rest of him, only existing in her memories.

Since then Katherine had drifted from location to location, making use of all the residences that her lover had left to her. By making a few wisely chosen investments, she had even managed to buy a few more all while keeping her head well above the water. Her finances had taken a bit of a hit during the Great Depression in the 1930s, but luckily most of her money was kept in accounts overseas, so she lost less than half of her total net worth.

Here and there she worked, if just to keep herself busy and provide a cover rather than for the sake of expenses. For a few years she took on the position of housekeeper for a an elderly English gentleman who kept a house in Yorkshire; during the first world war, she served as a nurse on the European front, saving lives where she could, and providing her own particular brand of euthanasia to ease the pain of death where there was no hope.

What Katherine prided herself on most, however, was the fact that she had gradually shied away from feeding on humans for the most part. It had taken a long time during which her hunger had been agonizingly unbearable, but she had eventually gotten her system to adjust so that she could subsist on animal blood. From time to time, when faced with a dying patient or a long-suffering stranger, she would indulge a little in her old ways, but more often than not, she refrained. It was a feat she probably wouldn't have ever been able to accomplish under Darien's tutelage, a fact that she accepted as the silver lining in the cloud that hung over her.

She had arrived in Rhode Island about a year ago, renting a house in a nice neighborhood and taking on volunteer work at the local hospital. The hospital was where she spent most of her days, as keeping busy had always had the effect on her of making time pass more quickly. Moreover, it kept her mind from drifting down unwanted paths, and, as of late, quite a few of them had made their presence known.

Upon losing Darien, she had felt lost, abandoned, and experienced a searing heartache that was far more painful than what she had felt when Gregory was killed right in front of her. He had been her husband, yes, and the father of her child, but the few years they were together were nothing compared to the century she had spent with Darien. Her sire had known her in more ways than Gregory could have ever hoped to and, if she was to be honest with herself, she had loved the vampire far more than she had the mortal man. Now she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever feel that connection with anyone again.

For awhile she had managed to suppress her loneliness, to carry on with the endless string of days, months, weeks that made up her life. But now it was threatening to rise anew and she had started to feel that ache again, and as she watched the human families thriving all around her, it only grew worse. Katherine had begun to yearn for the love she had once known, for someone she could spend the rest of her days with. What was even more distressing was the resurgence of the maternal instincts that had long since lain dormant. She was under no delusion that she could ever possibly give birth to another child, in fact she reminded herself of the opposing truth constantly, but that didn't diminish her longing. Her son had been so young when she was turned and she had never gotten the chance to see him grow into a man. He had been raised motherless as well as fatherless and the guilt that arose from that knowledge only egged her desire for motherhood on, as if she could atone for the past via a second chance in the present.

But the event of her being given a second chance was highly improbable and she did the best to put it out of her mind, keeping herself distracted at all costs. Work was, indeed, the easiest way to do this. However, the time would occasionally arise when her volunteering at the hospital would bring her into contact with children and the longing returned in full force. It was after one such incident, involving a five-year-old stricken with leukemia, that the emotional strain became unbearable that she had to take off early.

In an attempt to clear her head, and not quite ready to go home to her empty house, Katherine decided to take a walk down a nearby street. It was a pleasant spring day and a warm breeze was in the air, ruffling her auburn hair and playing with the hem of her dress. She found herself being grateful that the sun, while high in the sky, was not beating down particularly hard since she had neither a jacket nor a hat to shield her fair skin from the harsh light.

Suddenly, she caught sight of a head of bright red hair out of the corner of her eye, and upon redirecting her attention, she saw that it belonged to a young girl. She couldn't have been any older than ten, eleven, Katherine surmised, and was kneeling down on the grass, tending to a bed of flowers. The copper strands were pulled back into a braid and the girl's hands were covered in gloves, a fixed, determined expression was etched onto her young face as she focused on her task.

For several minutes, Katherine just stood there unnoticed, watching her. It was unusual for such a young girl to be so zealously absorbed by something as menial as gardening. Yet, there she was, not once glancing up from the dirt, only pausing here and there to wipe the sheen of perspiration off of her pale forehead with the back of her hand. This intrigued her, which is why she finally crossed the street and made her way over.

"What are you planting there?" Katherine inquired lightly, coming to stand on the sidewalk opposite of the girl, her hands clasped together in front of her.

The child glanced up at that, surprise flickering briefly in green eyes, although her expression was one of carefully trained mildness. "Petunias," she answered softly before turning her attention back to the flowers.

"Mmm, very pretty," Katherine said, glancing down at the flowers. "It looks as if you have a bit of a green thumb on you. Who taught you how to garden?"

There was a distinct pause before she said, her voice even quieter than before, "My mother. It was one of her favorite things to do."

She felt a pang in her chest at that, the ache of loss starting to throb once more. So this child had evidently lost her mother in some way or another, much like her own son had lost her all those years ago. It was becoming more and more apparent to her how vicious life could be.

But although she felt for the poor girl, and felt deeply, Katherine knew it wasn't her place to pry, so she merely silenced her further inquiries by nipping her lower lip. "I see," was all she finally said, her own voice soft.

The girl continued on with her work without another word, not even glancing back up at her. Although her face was partly shielded from Katherine's view due to the way her head was tilted, the fact that a single tear splashed onto the soil didn't escape her notice. Unable to help herself, Katherine wordlessly knelt down onto the sidewalk, reaching out to place a gentle hand on the child's small shoulder.

She stiffened ever so slightly beneath Katherine's touch, her head slowly turning upwards to look at her again. Her eyes were wide, shock flickering in them again, but she said nothing, only staring at her wordlessly, as if unsure how else to react.

Katherine didn't speak again, either, only offering her a small, gentle smile. There was a second of hesitation before the girl started to return it ever so faintly, but the moment was broken by the sound of a sharp female voice calling from inside, "Bree, come in here this instant!"

Immediately, the child pulled back from Katherine's touch, moving to stand. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said quietly, dropping her gaze again as she pulled off her gloves. "I have to go inside. My stepmother's calling me."

"Of course," Katherine responded simply, rising to her feet as well and brushing off her skirt. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Bree."

"Same to you," Bree responded with automatic cordiality before turning to go into the house. Upon opening the door, however, she hovered on the threshold for a brief second, glancing back once more at Katherine before disappearing inside.


End file.
